"When someone loses a family member, or is faced with tragedy that is beyond comprehension, the mind and body take refuge in a safe place. Sometimes, it takes the person on a journey that many people cannot conceive. It is my opinion that Steven will never be able to return to his former self."

That quote was from one of my doctors that I saw while confined.

While it is true that the death of my father was very traumatic, what followed was truly real.

Christopher resides in Fremont,Ohio,USA. A self confessed music nerd, he utilized real life experiences with a vivid imagination to write a fictional memoir, Almost Anonymous. A tale of a young musician’s battle to discover the real person inside. After positive reviews he was urged to write in a genre that was more popular. He chose Horror, and “The Killing of Miguel” was written. A story of a young man seeking revenge against an Agent of the Devil (Miguel) for stealing his father’s soul.

In his spare time he enjoys spending time with his wife,Vicki and their son’s Kevin,Joshua, Jacob, grandson Maxwell Christopher McAfee and their assortment of family dogs, Buddy,Bailey,Nash and Mia.

After Dad’s death, I wasn’t sleeping well. I hadn’t been running, and my body was taking
notice. I had put on some weight, and my energy level was low. I decided to take
some sleeping pills that I had discovered in the bathroom. I took the required
amount and soon felt drowsy.
And this is the beginning of my story.
I drifted off quickly and even found myself chuckling and feeling goofy.Finally, I thought to myself, a good night’s sleep. I soon found myself awakened
by a sweet, indescribable smell. I looked around only to see myself lying on the
side of a hill abundant with wildflowers. I stood and noticed a large oak tree in
the distance. I was drawn to it. As I got closer, I saw a girl motioning me to
come to her. She was blonde with a white gown, brown eyes, and a smallish
figure. She wrapped her arms around me. It felt warm and comforting. She said
she had been sent to guide me through this difficult time and that she would
always be here for me. She was beautiful. She sat down, I laid my head on her
lap, and she brushed my hair from my eyes. It felt so real, but at the same time
surreal.
I was soon awakened by my alarm clock. Five a.m.―time to go to work. That
dream stuck with me for days. Every night, from then on, I would try and make
myself fall asleep and dream. I tried retracing my steps, eating the same food,
taking the same sleeping pills, and going to sleep at the same time. It became an
obsession.
I had to see this “angel” again.
It was only a couple of days into our summer vacation when Beth stopped
over for a visit and invited us to meet their new exchange student. I reluctantly
agreed, as their previous exchange students had all been holy rollers who had
known the Bible front to back. Being a nonbeliever, they were not the kind of
people I wanted to spend time with.
That night, I struck gold. Same dream, same scenario. Only this time, it was
even more real.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Alexa,” she replied.
“What are you doing here?”
“A calling came out to help a young man with the death of his father. I’m
answering the call to be by your side. Are you the one who needs me?”
“Yes! Yes! Me. I’m Steven,” I answered enthusiastically.
“You miss your father, don’t you?”
My eyes filled with tears. “Yes.”
She held me as I cried and told her all about him. It was exactly what I
needed. She told me she was my angel and that she would always be there for
me. I smiled and drifted off.
Once again, I was awakened by a shrill alarm clock. But this morning I felt
renewed and regenerated. I had a bounce in my step, and the name “Alexa” was
in my thoughts. After work, I grabbed a sandwich and went straight to my room,
hoping for a nap and another visit with her.
But no luck.
Mom reminded me that the Randolph’s were having a little party for their new
exchange student. “He’s from Ecuador,” Mom said. “A very well-spoken boy
who gives very stirring sermons. We’re very lucky to have him join us.”Yeah, I thought, just another con man.
It was a very casual affair. Potluck. Mom fixed lasagna, and all the other
church members brought side dishes and desserts. I thought, At least I’ll get mystomach full. With a mouth full of food, I saw Beth walking towards me with the
new exchange student.
“Steven, I’d like you to meet Miguel.” I shook his hand, and he crushed mine.Damn Alpha Male, I thought to myself. I didn’t like this guy from the start. And
as the night grew longer, I grew jealous as Hell, as Beth never left his side. She
was showing a flirtatious side that I had never seen before. It was obvious that
she was smitten with him.
After a couple of hours, I got tired of Beth and all of the other girls (and some
of the women too) throwing themselves at this guy. I guess I could understand.
He was tall, dark-skinned, and well-mannered―a Casanova type. My mom
approached me.
“Have you met Miguel?”
“Yeah, I’ve met him.” I turned and went home.
It had caught me off guard. I wasn’t used to seeing Beth with someone else,
especially someone as handsome as this guy. Certainly, she wouldn’t give herself
to this boy who was only going to be here for a few months. I put on my sweat
pants and went to bed.
Alexa visited me that night. I told her of this “new boy in the neighborhood,”
and she reassured me that, no matter what, she would always be there for me and
that any girl would be lucky to have me.
“Yeah, sure,” I said.
Soon, she had me forgetting all about Beth and laughing my head off. I then
turned serious.
“Are you real?” I asked.
“Do I look real?’’
“Yeah, too real. And beautiful too,” I said.
“Well, then, consider me real,” she said and smiled.
I nodded.
The next morning, I started questioning my sanity. As much as I wanted to
believe it, she couldn’t be real. As a nonbeliever in God, how could I justify
talking to an angel? I decided to not question it and just enjoy the ride.
My mom cornered me that day after work. “I’d like for you to talk with
Reverend Randolph. He wants to know how you’re doing since your father’s
death.”
“Tell him I’m fine.”
“Steven?” She grabbed my face. “For me, please?”
“Sure.”
“And by the way, where have you been going? Your pants smell like
honeysuckle.”
I smelled them. They smelled like the flowers that were on the hillside where I
would meet with Alexa in my dreams.
I went over to the Randolphs’ house, and Miguel opened the door.
“Steven, my friend! How nice of you to stop in. I take it you are here to see
Reverend Randolph.”
“Yeah.”
“Right this way.” He showed me to the Reverend’s study.
“Steven, please come in and have a seat. Your mother said you wanted to see
me.”
“Well, no actually…”
“Your father’s death was a shock to us all. But we can all learn from it.”
I interrupted him. “Have you ever met an angel?” I asked. “Have you ever
seen an angel?”
“Well, no, Steven, why do you ask? Have you?”
I didn’t want to tip my hand, and if I confessed to talking to an angel, my
mom would have me committed to an insane asylum. “Just wondering, you
know, just…interested.”
He went on with his speech, none of which I listened to. But I did hear
laughter coming from the other room. It was Miguel and Beth. I thanked the
Reverend, who was mid-sentence, and excused myself. As I left, they continued
laughing.
“Bye, Steven,” Miguel said. Had they heard me asking about angels? Is that
why they were laughing? The whole Alexa thing was getting fun, but when my
pants smelled like the flowers in my dream, it had me confused, and I searched
for a reasonable explanation.
My meetings with Alexa were now an every-night event. I would drift off,
then be awakened to the sweet smell of honeysuckle and the warmth of her being
when she was near. We laughed. I would chase her around the tree. I would tell
her my dreams. I would tell her my most private thoughts.
I was falling in love with her.
“How come I can only see you in my dreams?” I asked.
“That’s where I belong,” she said.
“I…I just miss you during the day. That’s all.”
“Do you want me to visit you during the day? I will.”
“Alexa?”
“Yes, Steven.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
We kissed.
Once again, the moment was ruined by my annoying alarm clock. I got out of
bed and started to leave. I picked up my clothes and smelled them. It was the
honeysuckle.
The following morning, when was halfway done with my mowing, I was
wondering how Alexa would present herself. I was eager with anticipation when
I felt her warmth and smelled her fragrance.
She was with me.
Inside of me.
I felt complete.
I probably looked like a jerk, outside riding on a mower with a goofy grin on
my face.
She would stay with me all day unless I had to talk to someone, then she
would disappear. I tried to avoid interaction with everyone.
The nighttime was filled with chasing her, catching her, and professing my
love to her.
“Marry me,” I said.
“Steven, I can’t marry you. I am not of this world.”
“If I died, could we be together?” I asked.
“Steven! Don’t talk like that. Your mother needs you. Your time on Earth is
not over.”
“I’m going to buy you a ring! I’m going to buy you a ring, and then we can
say some vows to each other under the big oak tree,” I said excitedly.
Alexa suddenly got a serious look on her face. “Oh, Steven, I would love
that.”
We kissed. I knew for sure that I had found my soulmate.
The following day, I took all of my earnings from the golf course and bought
two rings―one for each of us. No diamonds, but whatever $112 could buy, and I
was extremely proud of the steel-like finish they possessed.
That night we waited for dark. We stood underneath the big oak tree and read
our vows. I remember the moon being so close and so bright that the words were
easy to read. When we were done reading, we kissed. With a gentle breeze
behind us, we walked to a nearby forest. We lay down and consummated our
marriage. It was quick, awkward, and beautiful. I fell asleep.
I awoke early to go to work. I was constantly checking the ring on my finger.
Even though I was still a kid in every way possible, I felt like an adult. I made a
vow to get my life together―buckle down at school, go to college, and make a
life for Alexa and me. It made me wonder about my dad. I bet getting married
had made him dedicated to making his life a success.
Sometimes I would get doubts. I knew this was not a traditional relationship.
But it was all I had.
I had no other friends.
In the meantime, Beth and Miguel were obviously a couple. They went
everywhere together. The rumor was that he had taken her virginity, and I was
hoping that that was not the case. I had noticed that the congregation was
increasing dramatically, and I was sure that Reverend Randolph was licking his
chops at all the money they were bringing in. The church had added an extra
service on Sunday nights, and Miguel was the main draw. I still felt
uncomfortable around him, but I thought it was just leftover feelings I had for
Beth.

It was the day of the bonfire. I placed the ring Father Patrick had given me on
my right-hand ring finger. My left hand was still reserved for Alexa’s wedding
ring and my wedding ring. With all that was going on, she was still in my daily
thoughts.
I biked to the Catholic Church, walked in, and headed for the office. Father
Patrick greeted me dressed in black garb.
“My battle robe,” he professed. “Let’s go.”
I climbed on my bike. Father Patrick spent the next few minutes trying to
accommodate himself on the handlebars. It was a comedic scene. Once he was
secure, I pedaled to the park, gaining many strange looks as well as catcalls.
When we arrived, we sought refuge in the bushes some fifty yards from the
pile of wood.
Father Patrick advised me time and time again to not stare at the flame, to not
concentrate on the words of Miguel, and to rely on the power of the ring he had
given me.
“He will search out the non-believers―the ones who believe they have been
failed by Christ. He will promise them great wealth and happiness.”
As Miguel approached the pulpit, the crowd stood in anticipation. As he
spoke, the flames of the bonfire seemed to rise. People were fainting and crying
as he wandered down through the crowd. He was being mobbed. They all
wanted to touch this false messiah. My hands were shaking, my chest was
pounding, and the amulet in the Battle Ring turned blood red. My instincts were
telling me to prepare for a fight. I looked at Father Patrick. He looked unfazed.
At the end, the crowd disbanded, and Father Patrick and I took a long, silent
walk back to his church.
Upon arrival, I had to ask, “Well?”
He took a long drag from his cigarette and spoke: “He is most certainly not
the Devil.”
“How can you say that?” I felt enraged. “Don’t you believe me? I saw him kill
Alexa! She said he had her soul, and the ring you gave me was red! Who else
does this?”
He remained silent, and I calmed myself.
“So Miguel is not the Devil? That’s good, right?”
“I have battled this demon many times before. He has a stench about him that
I cannot forget. Miguel is the latest moniker he goes by, but he is centuries old.
He is an agent of the Devil, an Exalted Demon. He is here to collect souls for
Satan and to defeat all that is good in the world. He is the soul apparent, the
successor to Lucifer, and possibly the Antichrist. He is one step below Satan, but
twice as Evil. He does all of the Devil’s dirty work: stealing souls and making
honest men lie and deceive for profit. He is tricking people by using the name
Miguel, a form of Michael, which translates to “One who is God.” He is here to
ravage souls and to end the earth. Armageddon may be upon us.”
“He must be defeated.”
Up till now, I had taken everything Father Patrick had said with uncertainty.
But now I could see that he was dead serious.